Rising Sun (24 page)

Dane silently agreed. How would his father and mother feel if they went to the movies and the newsreels showed their only son being sliced to bloody pieces by a crazy Jap with a sword? The military had been quite strict so far—no pictures of American dead had been released, except for a couple taken at Pearl Harbor. Of course, everyone knew that the ships at Pearl, especially the
Arizona
, were tombs containing many dead.

Merchant shook his head. “It just doesn’t seem fair, Admiral. Those guys risked their lives taking those pictures and we’re going to sit on them?”

“Life isn’t fair, Captain, and you know that.”

Dane interrupted. “Sir, how many know about these pictures?”

“Only a few have actually seen them and after we’re done, they get locked up, so let’s pass them back.” There was a shuffling of papers as the men complied. “Let the rumors flow, and don’t deny their existence, but they won’t be released without permission from Washington.”

Disgruntled and still dissatisfied, Dane and Merchant went back to their desks. Dane had gotten some uncoded Japanese radio broadcasts from the night before that had been recorded. He would listen to them and try to make an intelligent observation about the state of mind of the people in and around Tokyo. In his opinion, it was an exercise in futility, although it was intriguing the way the Japanese propagandists were still portraying the American attack on the Japanese squadron at Anchorage as a victory for their side. Also, they hadn’t admitted a thing regarding the two carriers that had been damaged after the attack on San Francisco, although a number of American pilots had confirmed that the ships been hit and were burning.

Well, Dane thought grimly, I don’t suppose we’d admit to losing any ships either, unless we had to. He wondered if there were photos of the Japanese carriers burning and if they would be released or locked up for a future date. He made a mental note to ask Merchant.

A young seaman first class came up to his desk. He didn’t salute or come to attention. There were far too many officers around for that kind of military formality. As Spruance had said with a smile, “Making an enlisted man salute every time he spoke to an officer in this place would mean the poor man would have no time for his work.”

“Commander, I don’t know how they got on post,” the sailor said, “but there are some civilian-type people outside the building asking for you.”

Dane was puzzled. Just about everyone he knew was within a few feet of him. “Any idea who?”

“No, sir, I was just asked to come and get you.”

Dane got up, told Merchant where he was going, and followed the sailor to the lobby of the building that had once belonged to a civilian contractor.

When he entered the lobby, two women approached him. One was a short-haired blonde in her mid-thirties with the kind of full figure that Captain Merchant always said he loved. The second was a short young brunette with equally short hair. He wondered if this was a new style. Both of them had terrible sunburns.

“Lieutenant Tim Dane?” asked the blonde.

“It’s lieutenant commander, but that’s not important, and yes, I am Tim Dane.”

“Well, I am Grace and this is Sandy, and we just wanted to check you out and make sure you were worth the trip. What do you think, Sandy?”

Sandy shrugged and walked around him, examining him quizzically. “He looks reasonably human, but I don’t know if he’s really the right person. Tell me, Lieutenant Commander But-that’s-not-important, are you a good guy?”

Dane had to laugh, even though he was puzzled. “I hope so.”

“You got yourself a girlfriend here?” asked Grace, who was clearly enjoying herself.

“Maybe. I got a letter from her a few days ago, but nothing since. I’m not even sure she’s my girlfriend although I’d sure as hell like her to be, and why am I telling you all of this since I don’t even know you?”

Then it hit him. Sandy and Grace were the women Amanda had mentioned in her letter. “Oh, Jesus, where’s Amanda?”

Grace smiled warmly and Sandy giggled. “Right outside that door,” Grace said.

Tim nearly knocked over two startled ensigns as he raced outside. She was standing a few feet away, just by the curb. She was wearing a short-sleeved white blouse and a flowered skirt that came to her knees. Her hair was as short as that of her friends and she was thinner than he remembered, but she was even lovelier. She smiled and he saw the two crooked teeth. Her skin was red and blotched, just like the other two women. They paused for a second and embraced. They didn’t kiss, just held each other tightly and swayed gently.

Grace and Sandy followed him outside. “I really think they do remember each other,” said Grace. Sandy, who was crying softly, silently agreed.

CHAPTER 13

TIM AND AMANDA SAT AS CLOSE TO EACH OTHER AS THEY COULD on a park bench across the street from where they’d reunited. Their hips and thighs were pressed against each other and their hands were grasped tightly. Neither knew quite what to say and neither wanted to spoil the moment.

Finally, Tim took a deep breath and spoke. “I was so worried. I had no idea if you were still in Hawaii, or out in that sailboat you spoke about, or even on one of those ships that had been sunk by Japanese planes.”

She squeezed his hand even tighter and told him of their voyage across the Pacific in Mack’s catamaran. She told him of Mack’s death from the rogue wave, her own fears that they’d made the wrong decision and that they would die lonely and painful deaths. She then added that she wasn’t supposed to tell anyone lest people in Hawaii find out and try the same thing. Tim said his lips were sealed.

“It was almost a miracle when we washed up near San Francisco. Another day or two at the most and we’d all have been too weak to sail the cat. I had scurvy, a touch of dysentery, and had managed to lose twenty pounds that I didn’t know I had in the first place. We would have come down here sooner, but we had to gather our strength, learn how to eat again, get some clothes, and, of course, identification and ration cards.”

She held out her bare arms. For the first time, he noticed that they were red and raw, and that dry skin was flaking off them. Her thin legs were in the same condition.

“It took a couple of days and a gallon of salves to get the sunburn down to where we could even stand the feel of cloth against our skins.”

A few people walking by glanced at them and a couple of enlisted men grinned. None of them saluted. Amanda touched Tim’s cheek. “We’ve been out of touch for so long and I was worried that you hadn’t made it yourself.”

“One of the subs didn’t. We were attacked but got away.”

“At least you were safe here in San Diego after that.”

Dane laughed. “Did you hear about the bomber raid on the Japs at Anchorage and the battleships hitting them a while later?”

“Of course. While we were convalescing, we spent a lot of time reading old newspapers and magazines and, oh God, you weren’t involved in them, were you?”

Tim told her he was and she shook her head. “I don’t believe it. Here I was so happy thinking you were safe and sound in San Diego, assuming you’d made it, of course. Please promise me you won’t do anything foolish like that again.”

“Sometimes it’s not my call. By the way, you made the right move in leaving Hawaii. The Japs have landed on the big island and set up a base by Hilo where they’re out of reach of the army garrison on Oahu. Much worse is the fact that the population of the islands are on near-starvation rations. They’re subsisting on fish and whatever they can grow, which isn’t much. Someday we’ll send in a relief fleet, but not for a while. If you have any friends there, and I’m sure you do, they are having a pretty rough time and it’s not going to get better.”

She wiped away a tear. “There aren’t any right decisions, are there? If we hadn’t sailed, Mack might still be alive although we’d probably be just as hungry as we were the last week or so on the boat, and we’d be terrified that the Japs would invade and take even that away.”

They were silent for a moment. Tim took a deep breath. “Amanda, where do we go from here?”

She smiled, “Just what I was thinking, too. Where would you wish to go, and don’t suggest an apartment? First of all, I don’t know you that well and, second, the three of us are bunking in a Quonset hut with a dozen other nurses. Seriously, my Great Dane, I would like for us to move slowly, get to know each other a whole lot better, and see where the world takes us.”

Tim took a deep breath. He was thrilled and happy beyond words that she was safe and by his side, but were they ready to make a commitment based on a couple of hours together? Wartime romances had a tendency to be intense and quickly consummated and often just as suddenly dissolved. No. However much he liked her and desired her, they would take it slowly.

“Sounds great to me. Just so you know how luxuriously I have it, I live in a two-man room in a miserable barracks that’s been designated as Bachelor Officers’ Quarters. The walls are so thin maybe a hundred men can hear each other snore.”

Amanda nodded and smiled warmly. “That’s probably just as well. When the time for privacy arrives, I’m sure we’ll work it out. Now, who is that navy captain talking to Grace and is he trying to pick her up?”

Tim laughed. “That’s my boss, Bill Merchant. He’s an Annapolis guy and pretty decent.”

“Is he married? I wouldn’t want Gracie to meet up with the wrong sort, even though I kind of think she can take care of herself.”

“Bill was married, but he got a Dear John letter a few weeks ago. His wife left him for a guy who works as a supervisor in the post office. He got her pregnant, so she’s divorcing Bill and going to marry the guy. He took it pretty hard for a bit, but looking at the way he’s staring at your friend, he may be recovering.”

Amanda stood and straightened her skirt. “Do you have any money?”

“Uh, a little. What do you have in mind?”

“I’m meeting you here at six and you’re taking me out to dinner.”

“Great. What would you like?”

“A great big thick and juicy steak cooked rare, thank you. I will eat it very slowly and have a glass of nice red California wine to go with it. Maybe two glasses if you promise not to take advantage of poor helpless little old me.”

“Anybody who sailed across the Pacific is far from helpless. But will I get to kiss you?”

“Plan on it, Commander, but just not on a park bench in front of half the fleet.”

Tim laughed. “Do I get to call you Mandy now, or should I stick with Amanda?”

“Amanda, always Amanda. Call me Mandy and you’ll suffer the excruciating pain I told you about in Honolulu a thousand years ago.”

Tim gestured to where Sandy and Grace were still talking to Merchant. “What about your good buddies?”

Amanda smiled sweetly and again patted his cheek. “Tim, I didn’t come all this way to find you so I can share you.”

* * *

Farris couldn’t sleep, so he decided to walk his platoon’s small perimeter. His little kingdom had been enlarged by the addition of a pair of 81mm mortars and another squad of soldiers to man them. They’d first been assigned to Lytle’s headquarters platoon, but he decided he didn’t want them around. Farris thought they probably looked too military for Lytle’s taste, or maybe they interfered with the decor provided by his seemingly endless rows of painted rocks.

Regardless, Farris had the mortars set up so they could fire out over the ocean, logically concluding that any attack would come from the sea and not from the land behind. He’d gotten a few dummy rounds and watched as the men operating the mortar attacked the Pacific. The mortars had a range of a little more than two miles. No one was manning them now, in the middle of the night. Only sentries and guards were awake and he was pleased to see that they were reasonably alert.

He’d gotten a phone call from his uncle with the good news that his girlfriend had made it from Hawaii to San Diego after all. He was amused at the thought of bachelor Tim Dane having a girlfriend and that he’d found her in the middle of a war. How the hell had he managed that? Damn, maybe it was true that sailors had all the luck. Once again he wondered if he was in the wrong service. He sure was having a fine time staring at the seals and sea otters, who, he was sure, were laughing at him.

He had a thought and it made him smile. Clever Steve Farris would invite Tim and his girl for a picnic or cookout and maybe this Amanda had a young woman friend of her own she could bring along. It would help if Amanda’s friend was cute, but, lord, it wasn’t all that necessary. All he wanted was a chance to talk with a real live girl and maybe wind up going a little farther than just talking. Maybe a lot farther. Excellent thought, he decided. Perhaps the world wasn’t such a bleak and lonely place after all.

Steve was still mildly concerned about how well Stecher had taken the existence of Sullivan’s wife and daughter. The sergeant was a little annoyed when he realized that Farris had known about them for quite a while, and had even chatted with them. Stecher finally admitted that the two women weren’t a threat to national security and would forget he ever saw them.

A sudden flash of light off the coast was quickly followed by the bark of what could only be a ship’s cannon. An explosion erupted down the coast near Lytle’s headquarters. The gun from the ocean fired again a few seconds later and commenced firing more rapidly, with shells pulverizing the tents and the damned white-washed rocks that beckoned like a beacon.

Steve’s platoon was stumbling in the dark as the alarm was sounded. Again he thanked his decision to place his men behind the low hill. Lytle’s position was getting creamed while his was invisible.

Stecher plopped down beside him as they looked over the hill. “Can you see anything, sir?”

Both men had binoculars. The ship fired again and for the briefest of instants, they saw it was a submarine.

“Damn it, Lieutenant, he’s killing our guys.”

Farris forced himself to stay calm. This was like the sinking of the tanker. Maybe it was the same damned sub. It had to be. This spot was just too innocuous to attract random attention, however foolish Lytle had been.

“What’s the range to the sub?” Farris snapped.

Stecher swore and said that he wasn’t certain and couldn’t tell all that well in the dark. He asked the men who were standing by the mortars and was told maybe two miles. Farris nodded. They reminded Farris that two miles was about it for an 81mm mortar.

“Shoot at the damn thing,” he ordered. “We won’t likely hit it, but maybe we’ll scare him off or at least distract the bastard.”

Seconds later, mortar rounds went arching toward the dimly seen outline of the Japanese sub. Shells splashed well away from her, and short. The mortar men made corrections and the next salvo landed much closer, but the sub was still not in range.

“That’s about as close as we can get, Lieutenant,” said the corporal in charge.

A searchlight arced out from the shore and now they could see the enemy boat. The deck gun fired again and another explosion chewed up the American base.

“We need more range,” Farris shouted. He took a sandbag and shoved it under one side of the base plate. This would lower the angle and maybe increase the range.

The mortar fired again and the shell landed over the sub. They were within range. The second mortar was similarly fixed and Farris gave the order to fire at will.

The corporal grimaced. “Just so you know, sir, we’ve only got twenty shells apiece. They’ll all be gone in a couple of minutes.”

“No point saving them, is there?” Farris said harshly. The corporal agreed.

The sub located its tormenters and the deck gun fired toward them, the shell exploding just inside the beach line. Farris realized it would take a miracle to hit the sub.

But miracles do happen and one of the last rounds they fired slammed into the conning tower. The explosion threw one of the deck gunners into the ocean and Farris’s gunners cheered their unlikely achievement. The sub’s skipper had had enough. She turned and headed out to sea but, curiously, wasn’t attempting to dive. Was the water too shallow or—Sweet Jesus, he thought—had they actually done some damage to the bastard?

A moment later, a dark shape flew low over Farris’s position. Machine-gun bullets and rockets streaked over the water to where they could still see the dark shape of the fleeing Japanese sub. They cheered as a second and a third plane raced in for the kill. The sub was doomed. She had to be too hurt to dive. The planes were shredding her hull with rockets. A bomb landed in the water near her. Then, suddenly, she rolled over on her side and bobbed lifelessly.

Farris shook himself. It was over. He was shaking and drenched with sweat. He checked his watch. The fight had lasted less than ten minutes. “Stecher, you stay here. I’m going to see what happened at HQ.”

He grabbed a jeep and raced over. By the time he got there, the fires were out and medics were treating the wounded, who were laid out on the ground. Some of the wounds were horrible and a few men were missing limbs. A trio of ambulances pulled up and men hopped out and started putting the wounded on stretchers. A couple of the wounded were moaning and one man screamed until some hastily injected morphine took over. A row of blanket-covered bodies lay a few yards away.

He found a wounded Lieutenant Sawyer trying to direct things. Sawyer’s head and left arm were wrapped in bandages. Sawyer looked grateful to see Steve arrive.

“How bad are things?” Farris asked.

“Six dead and fourteen wounded. One of the dead is Captain Lytle. I think he caught a Jap shell with his chest. Jesus, what a mess. You were right. He should never have built here.”

Steve agreed quietly. There was no changing what had been done. Lytle had paid with his life for his stupidity, and killed five others. More than a dozen men were wounded thanks to him. It was a helluva mess.